The Money Pit (1986)

March 26, 1986

FILM: 'THE MONEY PIT,' A DOMETIC COMEDY

By VINCENT CANBY

Published: March 26, 1986

IF you can imagine a remake of Steven Spielberg's ''Poltergeist'' in which the spirits of the dead have been shoved aside by equally loud, unruly plumbers and carpenters, you'll have some idea of ''The Money Pit,'' opening today at Loew's Astor Plaza and other theaters.

The new film, written by David Giler and directed by Richard Benjamin, is a domestic comedy about a house haunted not by ghosts but by dry rot, defective wiring and pipes so full of holes you could use them to drain spaghetti. It's as if Walter Fielding (Tom Hanks), the young lawyer-hero of ''The Money Pit,'' had found himself attempting to renovate the dream house built 40 years ago by Mr. Blandings.

Though ''The Money Pit'' is a comedy and not a horror film, ''Poltergeist'' doesn't come to mind by chance. Mr. Spielberg, who was responsible for the production of ''Poltergeist,'' is also the executive producer (with Mr. Giler) of ''The Money Pit.'' His unseen presence -for better and worse - is felt everywhere.

As photographed on locations in New York and Long Island by Gordon Willis, ''The Money Pit''' has the slick, shiny, gift-wrapped look that's perfectly appropriate for this kind of disposable fiction. The hip cast is headed by Mr. Hanks (the mermaid's All-American Boy redeemer from ''Splash''), Shelley Long (who has the quality of a young Susan Sarandon) as Anna, Walter Fielding's live-in girlfriend, and Alexander Godunov as Max Beissart, Anna's former husband.

Without half-trying, Mr. Godunov nearly walks off with the film in a sure-fire if familiarly comic role, that of a matinee-idol symphony conductor whose love for Anna is exceeded only by his profound reverence for himself. Speaking of their wrecked marriage, Max tells Anna, by way of comforting her, ''I'll get over it because I'm shallow and self-centered.''

Mr. Godunov gets stiff competition from the other supporting players, including Philip Bosco, Joe Mantegna and, particularly, from Maureen Stapleton, whose total time on the screen is probably less than that of the opening credits.

As Estelle, the woman who sells her huge, beautiful, million-dollar Long Island mansion to Walter and Anna, Miss Stapleton provides the film with a high style that gets lost in between her appearances. Why is she giving up her estate for a mere $200,000? She says that it has to do with her beloved husband, Carlos. Sitting in her soon-to-be-sold giant master bedroom, on the side of her giant bed, highball in hand, her eyes abrim, she explains to Anna, ''You think you know somebody for 25 years - and then one day, Israeli intelligence agents knock at the door.''

Mr. Giler's screenplay is full of such inspired though peripheral lunacies, like the hard-rock band, a scroungy all-male ensemble in Shirley Temple party dresses, that wants to change its name from ''The Cheap Girls'' to ''Meryl Streep.''

Mr. Giler and Mr. Benjamin are hard put to sustain that inventiveness when it comes to the perils faced by Walter and Anna in putting their grand new house to order. The comedy depends entirely on special electrical effects and outlandish physical gags, most of which have to do with heavy objects, including Walter, falling through floors, down staircases and out windows.

The film's approach to slapstick comedy recalls Mr. Spielberg's in the director's only outright failure - the monumental ''1941.'' The gags, though elaborately choreographed, are so clumsily broken up in bits and pieces of explanatory ''business'' that one never has any sense of overall logic going fatally askew.

Typical is a carefully worked out, Rube Goldberg-like routine in which Walter makes one small misstep, leading ultimately to the collapse of the elaborate system of scaffolds that seem to be holding up the house. It looks as if it cost a mint and took weeks to shoot. The spectacle is so impressive that you hesitate to laugh.